Getting Your Life Back
by Maple Fay
Summary: Post S7. Buffy comes back from Italy and catches up with her friends' life... what will she find? A Fuffy story.
1. Prologue

**Getting Your Life Back**

Disclaimer: Joss is God. I own nothing.

Summary: Post S7. Buffy comes back to the States, having spent three years in Italy. What will she find, when she tries to catch up with her friends' lives?

Rating: M, just to be safe (language, implied violence, sexual situations)

A/N: This is a Fuffy story. Don't like, don't read.

Feedback: Always welcome!

**PROLOGUE**

The rain was pouring down heavily, banging of her car's front window. The blonde girl, looking pretty tired and cold, tightened her rollneck jumper around herself while shooting a disapproving look on the driver, a male with an eyepatch.

"New Hampshire? Why, oh _why_ did it have to be New Hampshire?"

"Guess none of us wanted to go back to sunny California. Plus, Emma lived here for like ages."

"Oh, right. I've forgotten about you girlfriend."

"Am I sensing sarcasm here?"

Buffy smiled at Xander, who concentrated hard on driving and watching her with his only eye at the same time. It felt good to see him again, after having spent last three years in Italy, looking after Dawn, making out with a new partner, and getting her life back -- which didn't go as well as she had planned, actually. Well, enough of that, she told herself, smiling lightly: she was back, having placed Dawn safely in London with Giles, ready for doing some catching up with her friends' lives.

Which seemed to have changed a lot while she was away.

"This Emma of yours," she brought back their previous topic, "how did you guys meet? I mean, it's quite unusual to meet someone like her… even after…"

"I dropped into her on my first night in Boston," he replied flatly. "We talked, she told me she'd been a vengeance demon, I told myself _no way I'm doing THAT again_, took her phone number anyway, called the next day, moved into her place down here after four months. Satisfied?"

"Almost."

"What'd you mean by 'almost'? I'm opening my heart before you!"

"I still fail to understand how come Willow is staying with you two. As far as I know, vengeance demons can become obsessively jealous when it comes to their boyfriends."

Xander grinned, more to himself than to the blonde beside him, and swiftly turned right, already savioring the effect his next sentence would have upon her.

"Well, I figured she wouldn't oppose to my idea of bring her down to us, since _she_ was the one who invited her and Faith in."

"_Faith_?! Am I audily impaired or something? Please tell me I am…"

"I can't. That would be lying."

"Faith lives with you? Or, as a matter of fact, with _us_? How come?"

Hearing the nerve rising in his friend's voice, Xander decided to take his time with explaining this particularly delicate topic. He pulled off the road, stopping at a shabby diner, and motioned Buffy to get off the car. They ran towards the diner, shook the rain off their hair and clothes, and finally, as the waitress brought the menus, Xander started to talk.

"Faith used to stick around with Willow and Kennedy when they came back and settled down in Boston. She knew the place, so she helped them a lot with stuff like finding an apartment, getting around without being beaten up by some gangs, that kind of stuff. And then, when Kennedy decided she wanted a family, she helped Willow with finding the right donor to become a father for her child."

Buffy almost suffocated with her coffee.

"She did _what_?!"

Xander watched her, not a muscle on his face moving.

"Willow got herself pregnant, and for a while life was pretty cool. Faith stuck around, I met Emma, Kennedy got herself a job as a martial arts coach. Then one day, when Willow was five months along, taking it all pretty bad and getting sick all the time, Kennedy met that girl, a Canadian learning kung-fu, and fell for her. They left to Vancouver, without a word of explanation for Willow."

Buffy slammed the table with a fist. "I'm going to kill the bitch if I ever see her again."

"Won't oppose to that, if you let me help you. Anyway, i was already living with Emma by that time, so Faith offered to stay around, watch over Willow for some time. She didn't move in or nothing, she'd simply come and do some groceries, bring a thing or two from the pharmacy, clean up a bit--"

"_Clean up_? Are we still talking about the same person?"

"You really _have_ been away, Buff. Faith has changed, for better. I'm guessing taking care of Willow was one of the main issues there, and then those other things that happened--"

Buffy felt something extremely painful in her friend's voice, and blinked at him, feeling more and more nervous as Xander spoke in a shaky voice, so unlike him.

"Faith had a thing with someone, pretty scary guy, and decided to leave him, which he didn't like. He found her, even though she did her best to disappear, and beat her up one night, when she was on her way to get some medicines for Willow." A pause. Xander averts his gaze. "She was pregnant with him, eight weeks along. She lost her baby."

Buffy was speechless. For a moment she considered the possibility of Xander lying to her -- but no, he looked far too serious for that kind of thing. She tried to imagine Faith having a baby… and the baby being taken away fro her, even before she could actually _see_ it.

"How did she take it?"

"She spent a good deal of time in a hospital, and you know how she _loves_ that kind of places. Then Emma suggested inviting her and Willow to stay with us until things get quieter, so they moved over to our place. Willow was terribly devastated by all that; Faith was the person closest to her after Kennedy left, and now she hardly spoke a word. She'd go to the beach and stay there for hours, doing nothing, not even smoking, just looking at the sea. It really helped her when Willow had her baby; it's a girl, beautiful like her mother. Faith takes more care of Christine than any of us. Willow works with software stuff right now, she's busy all day long, and I think that somewhere deep inside she wishes for Chris to be Faith's, not hers, especially now that the reason for which she decided to have a baby in the first place is long gone to Canada…"

"I think I know what you mean." She closed her eyes for a moment, and opened them with a far more determined look on her face. "Right, I'm slowly catching up. Willow has a daughter, but spends more time with her computer than with her child. Kennedy's gone for good. You are dating a demon, who's nice enough to have your best friend, and your, er, former crush, live with you. And Faith… this gonna take some time to fit in, you know."

"I do. Know. And I understand it must seem to you like a freak show or something, but Buffy, don't judge us until you see what we have. It really seems like… Like we started to build a home. And I want you to be a part of it."

She didn't say anything for the next minute, reviewing all the information he gave her, doing her best not to start laughing like a crazy person. It all seemed so weird, so _different_ from what she remembered -- and yet, she could understand the reasons that brought this group of people together, kept them together, bound them into a family of a kind.

She sighed, and stretched her arms before getting up from her chair.

"Well then, Xander," she said, smiling at her friend, uncertain, but determined to give it a shot. "Do you think you could squeeze me in for a couple of nights?"

He beamed at her, pulling her into a well-known bearhug. "Make it a fortnight, Buff. Welcome home."

TBC…


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Thanks for all the reviews! Hope you won't feel disappointed much after reading the next part grins

**Disclaimer**: Again, I own nothing. Might want to own Faith, which is never going to happen, so yeah, I'll just fool around here a bit.

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"Now, now, young lady, you have to eat something, or your mum'll smack my ass -- in a magical way, mind you! On with the soup, please! _Whaat?_ Don'cha like the carrot? Well, neither do I, but honestly, Lil' Bit, ya still need to gain some weight before -- That's right, knew you could do it…"

Buffy couldn't help but giggle when she listened to Faith's muffled voice. How come a girl like her, harsh and tough, an ex-con, could get on with a child so well? Buffy had never been patient enough to develop a serious emotional relationship with _any_ child. She found them far too noisy and impredictable, much like herself -- this simply couldn't have worked, even if the child in question was the one of her best friend. She always thought talking to children and bending oneself to their level must be extremely difficult.

Which Faith has just proven to be wrong.

Xander winked at his friend and noiselessly motioned her to go first, as he moved to place her bags in the living room. Buffy stepped forward towards the voices, coming from where she supposed the kitchen was. She took in the interior: the house wasn't big, smaller than the one she and her mother had in Sunnydale, but all the same tidy and neat, kept in fair colors. Some pictures of Xander and a cheeky brunette smiling possesively over him decorated the walls. Buffy recognized Willow's jumper hanging on the half-opened wardrobe doors, a laptop bag that must have been hers left carelessly by the table leg, a tool box placed neatly next to a pair of shoes in the faraway corner -- yes, this was really her friends' house, they've carved a part of themselves into it.

She hoped they had space enough to squeeze her in for a while.

Finally she reached the kitchen, and shyly peeked inside. There was a little girl, maybe eight months old, sitting in a baby chair and cooing over a green plastic spoon, while a slim, dark haired woman wearing a UC Sunnydale sweatshirt tried to feed her with some soup. Buffy paused at the door, unintentionally smiling at the sight. Willow's daughter, Christine, had her mother's eyes and smile, but her hair wasn't red as Buffy expected it to be: a few locks on child's head were dark, almost as dark as Faith's. Little girl beamed at the Slayer, who sat opposite to her straddling a chair. Her hair was longer than Buffy remembered, and she seemed paler, but it was still Faith as she knew her. She waited for them to notice her presence, in the meanwhile enjoying the scene. The sight of Faith feeding Christine, and occasionally cleaning her face with a soft cloth, was mesmerizing. Buffy never imagined her fellow Slayer's movements could be so soft, delicate and caring. She couldn't have paid more attention to the child had Christine been made of glass. There was something else, though, not only the _duty_ that made Faith take care of the girl: there was love and affection, which guided the brunette's every motion, and filled it with tenderness warmth.

Buffy had never seen Faith in love before, so there was no way she could compare her attitude towards Christine to the one towards a grown up person Faith would choose to be with. A strange, buzzing thought appeared in the corner of her mind: _it would be really great to be cared of like that._

Just as she mentally snapped at herself for thinking bullshit, Christine's eyes left her carer's face to rest on the new person standing by the door. Faith must have caught the child's questioning glare, for she turned around in one swift motion. Her eyes widened in shock for a second, before she beamed wholeheartedly at the newcomer.

"Hey, B," she said casually, as if the last time they'd seen each other was last week, not three years ago. "Haven't seen _you_ coming down here. Finally grew tired of the beautiful Italy, huh? You staying 'round?"

"I guess so," Buffy answered, suddenly feeling strangely nervous, "if it's alright with you."

Faith flashed her teeth in yet another grin, and turned back to Christine, taking her out of the baby-chair and into her arms. "I'm five by five, B. Guess it's time for you to meet somebody." She stepped in closer to Buffy, and presented her the girl, who leaned her head against Faith's prominent chest, while shyly looking at Buffy from behind her folded hands. "This is Miss Chris Rosenberg, a helluva woman just like her mom. Hope you two get along well, or I'll have to kick your ass. I mean it."

"We wouldn't like_that_ to happen _again_," Buffy answered, and reached out tentatively to stroke the baby's arm. It was warm and velvety soft; for an instant she felt really jealous for Faith being able to hold her so casually. She'd probably break something in this frail body at first attempt. She took one of the baby's hands in hers and admired the tiny nails. Christine cooed at her and hid her face away in Faith's hair.

"She seems to like you," the brunette said, watching the display of mutual shyness in amusement. "Would you like to hold her?"

"No!" Buffy almost jumped at the sudden question, which caused the baby to stare at her with something strikingly resembling disbelief on the face. "I mean -- I'm not sure I can."

"'Course you do. Here you go," and then, before Buffy could protest, she felt Faith's hands guiding hers to take the hold in Christine's body. She noticed how cold they where in comparison to the child's warmth, and shrugged involuntarily. Faith took a step away and admired them both for a moment. "You look very nice together. And she seems to like you."

Indeed, Christine settled herself comfortably against Buffy, and tangled her fingers into her hair.

"If 'liking me' means 'making my hair look even worse than it does now', then I have to agree with you. She's so beautiful! She has Willow's eyes, that's so cute! And you -- you look so natural with her…"

She realized her mistake the moment the words left her mouth. Something strange, a slight shadow of grief, flew across Faith's face, though it lasted only for a split second. The brunette shrugged and crossed her arms on her chest, avoiding Buffy's gaze. She looked so hurt Buffy doubted whether she'd even speak to her again, but after a moment Faith looked up again, giving her a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Well, yeah, we're both kinda wild, ya know, characters resemblance and stuff," she babbled, arranging the baby's hair. "What about you, B? Heard there was someone around -- any chances for you to be having your own?"

"A world of NO," Buffy stated firmly, still feeling bad about the way she reminded Faith of the child she never had. How could she _possibly_ be that stupid? Something had to be done about it; before she could think of something else to say, though, she heard a woman calling out to them from the second floor:

"Faith? Did you feed Chris?"

"Yup, Mommy Will, we're all packed up," Faith answered, motioning Buffy to follow her upstairs. After the initial shock of having a child in her arms, Buffy found that caring Chris around was quite easy, and made herself comfortable with the little body against her. They climbed the stairs (Buffy noticed some pictures of Christine on the walls; strangely enough, Willow was not in them), and Faith pushed opened the doors the Willow's room. Any free surface in there seemed to be cluttered with books, magical ingredients, software CDs and baby stuff like toys, milk bottle warmers, diapers and such. Christine's bed stood by the window, between Willow's one and a massive desk. Buffy wasn't at all surprised to find her friend lost in her work: she was copying an excerpt of a text from a dusty old volume. Her hair was cut really short, shortest Buffy has ever seen on Willow, and she gained a few inches in her chest, apparently the result of pregnancy and feeding Chris. She was so lost in thoughts she didn't even look at them.

"Can you please put Chris down to sleep, Faith?" she asked, still copying. "It's time for her nap."

"Sure thing, Will," Buffy answered, and giggled at the expression on her friend's face. Willow jumped up to her feet and wrapped her arms around both Buffy and Christine, hugging them feverishly. Faith snorted and took the baby out of Buffy's arms, to prevent it from being squashed between to two friends' bodies.

"Oh my God, Buffy!" Willow exclaimed, taking in her posture, complexion and haircut, examining all visible changes. "I didn't know you were coming! Who did this? It was Xander, wasn't it? Oh I'll _kill_ him for not telling me--"

"Chill out, Red," said Faith, busy tugging Chris into her bed. "B came out upon us without a warning, true, but that's no reason to get on Xander's back. That job's already taken."

"Well… oh, you're right," Willow sighed playfully, pulling Buffy down to sit on the bed beside her. "How are you? Where did you get here? Are you going to stay long?"

"Not sure I like this last question," Buffy laughed, tossing some hair strands away from her face. "Still, to answer all of them: I'm a bit tired, but fine otherwise, I just got here and I intend to stay for a while -- as long as you wanna have me, that is."

She felt Faith turning and looking at her questioningly behind her back (the Slayer connection started to kick back in, she figured), but decided to ignore it this once. This was the time for her and Willow to savior each others presence.

That is -- it was, until Christine cried.

"Oh," Buffy said, jumping to her feet, "maybe I should leave you now? We can talk when Chris goes to sleep."

"Don't worry, Faith can cope with that," Willow answered, and turned to the other Slayer. "Could you stay with her until she falls asleep? I really need to talk to Buffy, I mean… wow!" she giggled, squeezing Buffy's hand and dragging her out of the room before Faith even had the time to answer.

The brunette's eyes followed Willow, as she exited the room, leaving her alone with the crying child.

"Sure thing, Red," she whispered, and turned back to Christine's bed.

"So, tell me! I want to know everything! How's Dawn? How's everything, basically?"

They were sitting in the kitchen, drinking cappucchino Willow made for them in a brand new coffee machine ("Emma loves this kind of stuff") and eating chocolate crisp cakes. The house was silent: Xander went back to work (he got a job as a teacher and Senior Consultant at a local construction plant), Emma was on a business trip in Boston (she had all the skills typical for vengeance demons, and therefore managed to get herself a full-time job as a financial specialist in a trading company), and Faith was taking care of Chris upstairs. Buffy leaned back on her chair and contemplated Willow's face for a moment. She expected her to look somehow different now that she was someone's mother, but no: it was the same old Willow straight to the bone.

Which was, strangely, kind of reassuring.

"Dawn's fine, she went to England to practise her theoretical knowledge. That is, she's going to be Giles' private seceretary slash assistant. She's been going crazy about it for weeks, so I figured we wouldn't need our house in Italy anymore. I found a small company willing to rent it, and now I'm living off my property. I thought that I could maybe find a job here: Giles and the girls at Central cover up most of the Hellmouth activities, Cleveland's been quiet for a while, so -- there are so many of them now, Willow. The Potentials. Many more than there were in the beginning. Seems like everybody wants to be the Slayer and fight evil things, so… I guess I don't really need to stick around anymore. I want to do something with my life, Will. Finish the college, get a job, live for myself for a change. When I was in Europe -- well, there was always this thing, living for somebody else's sake, Dawn's in particular. And now she's an adult, she no longer needs me. I'm not sure whether I can do more than a kick-boxing coach, but I want do work for myself from now on. And I would really appreciate it if you let me stick around here for a while."

"Oh, Buffy! Sure you can stay! Emma wouldn't mind, as long as you participate in paying the rent," Willow joked. "We could have you enrolled into a college, and hey, there'll be plenty of jobs for somebody of your skills, you just need some time to look for them. But first, I want you to stay put for a few days, so I can simply enjoy your presence."

The last sentence, pronounced in a perfect Willowy manner, made Buffy smile with gratitude. "Geez, I was so scared I was making a great mistake… Like, you know, your life has been all… organized, and suddenly I drop in, pusshing around, and you show me the door. I'm so happy you still want me, Will."

"What, are you crazy or something? Of course I want you! We all want you. And there will always be a place for you in my life, no matter what."

Faith's steps sounded out in the corridor. She came into the kitchen, wearing a worn leather jacket over the sweatshirt, with a bottle green scarf wrapped around her neck, hair pulled up into a pony tail.

"She's asleep," she reported, checking her pockets in a search for some cigarettes. "I'm gonna go out for a while, walk down the beach or somethin'. Be back in an hour."

And then she left through the back door, running down the stone steps towards the sea, forming the navy blue line on the horizon. Willow sighed and drank up her coffee.

"Well, I better go check on her," she said slowly. Buffy thought for a second her friend seemed a bit reluctant when it came to taking care of her own child, but nah, that couldn't be an issue, right?... "I reckon Xander would want you to take the guest room -- which actually means you'd have to move into Faith's basement. We have another room down there; it's small, but maybe you could stay there until we think of something else? Is it okay?"

"Sure," Buffy smiled, and stood up, stretching. "I'll take my things downstairs, then; you go back to your daughter. I'll see you later?"

"Sure," Willow smiled back, and (ever-so-slowly) climbed up the stairs to her room. Buffy watched her back for a second, then turned her gaze to her unpacked bags lying on the floor in the living room.

And do the door through which Faith went.

Back to the bags.

And to her jacket hanging in the hall, next to the door.

"Oh, well," she murmured to herself, playfully stretching again. "Guess I could take a walk."

TBC…


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, I think you got it. Owning nothing, earning even less.

**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews, and belated beta ;) Sorry it took me so long to update -- hope you like the following installment. Feedback is 3

- - - - - -

The beach didn't look like the one in Sunnydale. It was dark, windy and cold, with white sand crunching under one's shoes and rainy clouds hanging low in the sky. Buffy shuddered when a particularly strong blow of the wind hit her hard in the face, put her hands in her pockets and looked around searching for Faith. She spotted her in the distance, sitting on a big, grey rock towering over the waterline. Her knees were pulled up, her head lowered; everything in her posture screamed: _I'm too bothered to talk, go away_.

Oh, well. Buffy was never good in taking orders from anyone.

She came closer, struggling through the damp sand and against the wind, and gently touched Faith's shoulder. The younger Slayer looked at her without surprise: she's probably sensed her long before.

"Hey," she said, not sure now why she came here in the first place. "May I join you?"

"Sure," Faith nodded, moving aside to make some place for the blonde to sit. Buffy sat down, shivering slightly from the cold wind. Faith shot her a questioning glance

"Did Willow go to check on Chris?"

"Yes, she did."

"Good."

Again, there was silence. Buffy tried again.

"Willow said I will probably be moving in with you. Hope you don't mind?"

"Relax, B, I'm quite alright." She shot her a playful sideway glance and chuckled. "It is _I_ who should be asking if you're fine with me running around all naked and wet. I tend to put all my dirty towels into laundry and forgetting to take a new one out, ya know."

An image of flushed, wet, _naked_ Faith jogging down the corridor in the basement flashed before Buffy's eyes, and her breathing caught. She blushed, coughed to cover her embarassement, and turned her head towards the sea.

"What's the matter, B? Got all visual over me?"

"No, I didn't," she answered quickly -- too quickly, perhaps. Faith gave her a know-it-all grin and went back to staring at the waves. Buffy looked down on her hands. This should feel awkward, sitting on some God-forgotten rock, with the wind freezing her down to the bone, and accompanying Faith, who looked seriously devastated, and was probably craving for a moment of loneliness.

Strangely enough, it didn't feel bad. It felt good, just sitting there, sharing the view with somebody who might not have been particularly happy because of her presence, but at least they didn't complain or tell her to get the hell out of there.

It created a strange sensation of _belonging_ to a place.

On the other hand, Buffy simply couldn't belong to somewhere this cold. She shivered yet again and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

"Jesus, B, why didn'cha tell me you're freezing?" Faith shook off her own jacket and wrapped it around the shorter girl's shoulders. "I always forget people aren't used to the weather here."

Buffy put her arms into the sleeves, inhaling the faint scent of cigarettes, sharp perfume and something that had to be Faith's original fragrance. "You really are good at it," she whispered, hoping that the Slayer's hearing won't allow the brunette to hear the words.

"What did you just say?" Faith turned to her, with a highly surprised look on her face. "Good at what?"

Buffy blushed like a ten-year-old. "Dunno. Taking care of people? The way you looked with Chris…" she realized the conversation was going in a not-so-nice direction, and tried desperately to change the topic. "So, how's you and Willow?"

"What'd ya mean by 'me and Willow'? There's no 'us' when it comes to me and Red. We live in the same house, true; I help her with Chris as much as I can, but that's all. No friendly talks, no cuddling, no any of this kind of crap." She sounded defensive and angry, which kind of threw Buffy off her balance.

"Geez, Faith, I didn't mean to -- What I meant was: you and Willow don't have a history of friendship and mutual understanding, so now that both of you are taking care of Chris -- I figured it must take a great deal of goodwill and compromise."

Faith took a deep breath and shook her head in amazement. "You made it sound like a question 'bout, well, a relationship in full bloom. 'M quite relieved you didn' mean it. As for Red and I, we… cope. We talk, we stay under one roof, but things are far from perfect."

"But you came to her when… when she was pregnant, right? You stayed at her place."

Faith shrugged violently and reached past Buffy to the left pocket of her jacket, grabbing a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. "It was a lil' bit different then. We had… something in common, you might say. I believe X-man filled you in."

That was not a question. No point denying, Buffy thought, as she nodded slightly.

"See, when that bloody fucker did what he did -- first thing I wanted to do was to take all my stuff and run, run as fast and as far as I could. But then Emma came and said Red's been pretty harsh on herself, blaming herself of what happened to me, so… I decided to stay. Couldn't really risk her losing a baby and getting all messed up, too."

Buffy didn't answer to that. She recognized the feeling of responsibility, her greatest enemy: putting others before her, always thinking about the Greater Good, subduing her emotions and needs to those of her family and friends. She never realized that Faith, reckless, rebellious and tough as she was, could suffer from exactly the same demons. She looked at her fellow Slayer, and noticed something she didn't see before: a single wrinkle on her forehead, sign of fatigue and sorrow, carved in the middle of her forehead. Faith inhaled the cigarette smoke and ran a hand through her hair.

"'S an awful thing to happen, B. Hell, couple of weeks before you weren't even aware of a small thing living in you, and then, suddenly, it's gone, and you feel as if the oldest, biggest, best part of you was gone. That's not a thing you could wish for an _enemy_, not to mention somebody you've known for a while. We aren't exactly friends, Red and I, but I couldn't just leave her to it. Know what I mean?"

"I do, Faith. I really do." For a second Buffy wanted to take Faith's hand in hers to share some comfort, but the feeling was gone almost before she noticed. Faith didn't like showing affection like that. Faith was strong, and experienced, and…

Crying.

If you could actually call that single tear running down her cheek _crying_.

"I just wish I could make Red love Chris more," she said after a couple of minutes, wiping her tearstained cheeks with the back of her hand. "Shit, 'm saying some big words, an' I'm probably wrong 'n all, but this child is the sweetest lil' thing I've ever seen, and I'd do _everything_ for her, while her mother… Don't get me wrong, I know Red's got issues. She wasn't the one wanting a baby, and after that bitch hit the road no one could blame her for -- ya know, all that angsty stuff. But hey! It's been _months_, and she could as much as actually spend some time with her daughter when she ain't sleepin'. I promised myself I'd help her, and I will, but I can't be the mother for Chris. That just ain't my part."

Buffy looked down on her hands and realized she didn't have the slighest idea what to say. She was never pregnant, never meant to be, but she could imagine how it might feel like to lose a baby… how Faith must've felt like. Hearing her saying such things openly, letting Buffy know her feelings, was a big thing. One she never thought she'd have.

"Geez, B," Faith said after a moment, wiping her face with the back of her hand, "ya know I'm not a talker, I shouldn't be babbling 'round 'bout stuff like this. Ya better go 'n talk to Red, ask her how she feels 'bout everythin'. 'M just having this feeling it ain't exactly as it should be."

Before Buffy could reply to this -- probably by asking Faith one of those ugly questions buzzling in her head -- they both heard somebody calling them through the roaring wind. As they turned towards the house, they saw Xander approaching in a hurry, his feet sinking into the wet sand. He seemed deeply concerned, Buffy reckoned, and stood up, taking a few steps in his direction. Faith followed, looking as cool and distant as always. He'd never believed me if I told him she's just got all teary and emotional over Willow and Chris' mother-daughter relationship, Buffy thought, feeling as thought the two of them had shared something no one else could possibly experience. The thought was stuffed deeply in the back of her head, however, as she realized Xander actually looked frightened.

"What's the matter?" she asked, touching his shoulder reassuringly. He shuddered, visibly pale, and shoved a sheet of fax paper into her hand.

"This came to Emma's boss' an hour ago," he managed to say in a shaky voice, "She didn't show up after lunch, but they assumed she'd just forgotten her time in the middle of some shopping, and weren't alarmed... Not until now."

Buffy glanced at the imprinted picture, and gasped. It showed a woman -- Emma, as far as she could say from its poor quality -- tied to a chair, with a nasty cut running down her neck and between half-bared breasts. Underneath, scribbled in a terrible handwriting, was a ransom calling, signed by "K'Meesh".

Faith leaned over BUffy's shoulder and cursed under her breath. Next thing Buffy noticed was the dark slayer patting her friend"s shoulder.

"We'll got those sons of bitches, X-man. You have two slayers on your side. They're dust already. Let's go and grab some stuff, we need to get going."

She turned to look at Buffy, and grinned. "You weren't hopin' for a lil' bit of peace, were you, B?"

Buffy smiled involuntarily, despite all the anger she was feeling, and pulled the other two back towards the house.

"Not with you around, F. I never do."

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Every time my mind goes crazy – blame it on Joss.

**A/N:** Sorry for making you wait so long: guess I wanted this chapter to come out the best it could ;) Feedback is endless love ;)

_- - - - - - - _

_Buffy's POV_

"Wake up, sleepy, time to kick some major ass!"

I raise my head up and look over at Faith, turning off Xander's van engine. "Did I actually fall asleep in the car you were driving?"

"Guess you did. C'mon, the gals are waiting for us."

Oh, right. After Willow had identified demons who kidnapped Emma as a particularly violent types, Faith called CJ (the slayer in charge of NYC) for support. The girl was almost _too_ eager to help us out. _Wonder why_.

As I jump off the car, trying to get rid of a nasty little kink placed on the side of my neck, I notice the welcome committee at the end of their underground parking row. The black girl standing in the middle, one wearing a tight tank top and leather pants, must have been CJ, Faith's acquaintance. Where and when did they get… acquainted, by the way? I always thought Faith, a Bostonian to the bone, wasn't particularly fancy of NYC.

The way CJ welcomes the brunette suggests something more than just a slayer-thing.

"Hey there, beautiful," she says, hugging Faith closely before taking a long, careful look at her. "What kept ya away for so long?"

" 'M having some serious stuff to do right now, kiddo," Faith answers shortly, disentangling herself from the girl's embrace. "What d'ya know 'bout the bad guys, huh?"

"Why so professional, Fai?" CJ smiles, but her expression turns to serious as she notices Faith isn't in the mood for joking. "Right, they're in their usual places a coupla blocks away, in an old factory warehouse. Plan's simple: we go in, we tell them they've been bad-bad, we take your friend out, we burn the place down so they'd never come back here again."

"Usual place? And: again?" I come closer to them, furrowing my brow. "You mean they've been here for a while, and you didn't sort it out until now?"

CJ gives me a disapproving look, and I decide I must look like hell. Having spent the greater part of the night with Xander, who had completely freaked out, dozing off on the living room sofa and being waken up by Faith just before dawn, I didn't have much time to overcome her jetlag, or even to apply a decent amount of makeup. Not to mention my hair, probably sticking around my face in every possible direction. Still, it's no reason for junior here to look at me like that!

"And who are you?" CJ asks in a mocking tone, and just I am about to snap back something ugly, I feel Faith's hand touching my elbow.

"This is Buffy, the first an' original Slayer, and you should show her some respect, kiddo. Now, the girl we're lookin' for's her friend's fiancée, so we better get movin'. You can explain us your demon politics on the way."

I can say CJ's not quite happy by being told off by Faith, but she mumbles something that might have been a 'Sorry', and we start marching through the underground corridors under the mall to which the parking lot belongs. There are two other girls with us; one, a short, pale redhead, throws curious glances at Faith and myself: probably she'd never seen an 'original' Slayer before. The other, CJ's lookalike, is far more definite and goes for the bravery. I wonder how they'd do in the upcoming fight. It would be nice to be able to give it up to somebody else for a change – not only because I'm feeling rather wiped out at the moment, but it clearly is an issue.

CJ tells us more about K'Meeshs, eventually. They seem to work a little bit like junkies: no matter how often they're beaten up, or how many of them had been killed, they come back to the very same place they started in, and kidnap some more people.

"They're more like terrorists than demons: they don't eat people, or anything, they just want cash," CJ's friend adds, cracking her fingers. "Dirty little bastards. You sure your friend didn't make some nasty business with them? They're pretty touchy when it comes to money, ya know."

"Thanks for the tip, I'll ask her as soon as we bring her home," Faith answers, sounding slightly irritated. I cannot say whether it's because of the long walk we're being forced to take, or the fact that CJ keeps trying to get a hold of her hand. I'm feeling quite amused by observing Faith flinching.

When we finally get to the place, it all seems to last much shorter than the walking part. CJ breaks the window and we're in; the demons, four of them, rush towards us, and I can see it all coming: the kicks, the punches, the slime coming out of their wounds as juniors cut them expertfully. I'm taking their enthusiasm as a sign to step back a bit, let them have their share of fighting, and look for Emma.

I find her in a dirty, smelly room at the back of the warehouse, still tied up to a chair, pale and looking quite miserable. She looks at me with a mixed expression of fear and fury, and I kneel next to her, undoing the knots.

"It's okay," I say, as she massages her wrists and tries to stand up, hissing as shifts her bodyweight onto her still sore legs. "We're here to take you home. I'm Buffy Summers."

She looks blankly at me for a while, before a glimpse a realization flashes in her eyes and she takes my pre-offered hand, allowing me to help her out. "Thank you," she says; her voice is nice, deeper and warmer than Anya's. This is the first time I realize I'm actually comparing them, two vengeance demons, two lovers of my close friend. "Let's get the hell out of here."

I really like this idea.

As we come out of the room, three of the demons are already lying on the ground, very obviously dead. The girls are alright, though the youngest one is sitting on some old box, and CJ's friend is patching up a cut on her arm. I suddenly feel pretty bad about the idea of that girl going into fight. Yes, she might be a slayer, with all her powers awoken, but primary she's still a child, a teenager who doesn't know what to do with her new abilities. I doubt that she has a watcher – I had one, and it took me ever so long to discover what I could and couldn't do, and how to fight in order not to get myself killed or injured. I can't say much about CJ, apart from the fact that she's seriously hitting on Faith, but she doesn't seem to be the right person to educate girl like that one.

I make a mental note to call Dawn and discuss sending over some of the Watcher newbies. They have to learn a lot, too, but it might be a better idea to have them around here, to support the slayers. I do wish that little girl there found somebody she could count on.

I look around to find Faith, and there she is, pushing her knee against the chest of the last demon, the only one that succeeded in remaining alive. From the look on her face, and the way CJ's holding a knife against its throat, I'm guessing they're not discussing weather. I walk over to them, Emma still hanging from my shoulder, and the kink in my neck getting more and more annoying, especially since I'm still sore from the fight.

"You okay?" Faith asks as we approach her, without even looking back. Slayer connection can be quite useful when you're intimidating people slash demons and don't want to break eye contact.

"Five by five."

"Cool. Get the keys and go ahead, I'll be right in." She hands me over the keys to the van, and I take them thankfully, leading half-conscious Emma back to the van. It takes us fifteen minutes to get there, and when we finally do, my mental and physically exhaustion kicks in, and I slide down on the front seat as soon as I've made sure Emma is alright in the back. I take Faith's cell from the locker and dial Xander's number. He picks up right away.

"Are you okay?" he asks, pretty frantic. "Is she—"

"She's asleep in the car, with me," I say, interrupting him. "Faith's still giving the moralizing speech to the last bad guy, but as soon as she's done with it we're coming over to you. Don't worry. Just make sure there's hot water waiting in the bathtub."

"Thanks, Buff," he says and I can feel his relief. I smile inwardly, and end the conversation as I see Faith coming back, CJ on her heels. They say goodbye, and though I cannot hear what they're saying, I see Faith's irritation, and it's starting to affect me, too. Why can't the girl just leave us alone?!

I mean, Faith. Why can't she leave _Faith_ alone?

Sometimes I hate Slayer connection.

"Hey," Faith says as she slides into driver seat. "Tired?"

"A bit," I admit and close my eyes, glad that I can finally lean on somebody. Faith's going to take care of everything, I say to myself; the feeling gets even stronger as I feel her jacket being wrapped around my shoulders. She remembered I'm getting cold easily. I smile a small smile and drift away.

- - - - - - - -

There is water in the bath when we reach home, but it's not for me. Xander makes sure his girlfriend is the first one to get in, and some part of me knows it's right. The other one wants him to at least say 'thank you' again, even though he'd done it once already. Guess I'm just unbearably tired.

I so hoped for a moment of peace after we come back, but apparently there are no chances for that – Faith and Willow began their evening together with a major fight over Chris. Apparently, Faith asked Willow to take the baby out for a walk (which is usually her responsibility, as far as I understood it) before the weather gets really awful. It's been a beautiful day, maybe the last one this season, but Willow got so involved into her new project that she'd –

"Forgot about your own child, huh?"

"Well _excuse me_, Faith, but _some people_ have to actually _work_ in order to bring money home!"

"While others make them _save_ the money by not having to pay for a babysitter."

"And you think I'm not grateful enough? Well, I _am_ grateful, Faith, but I cannot let you accuse me for not doing something that could as well be done tomorrow."

"Unless it rains like hell, that is."

"Look," Willow says, running her fingers through her hair, and I can see she's a little bit ashamed, though she'd never say that aloud, "I really have to finish this project by tomorrow morning. You can take Chris out tomorrow, and if it rains you can always stay at the veranda. I have to go back to my work, sorry."

With that, she leaves the kitchen. We sit there, on the opposite sides of the table, in silence, and Faith lowers her head so that I cannot read her expression through a curtain of hair. "C'mon," she says finally, and grabs my suitcase that's still lying by the door, where I left it the day before. "You should get some rest, or I'll be the only original Slayer left standing. I'll show you your quarters, princess."

We go down to the basement, and Faith turns the light on. I'm surprised by the neatness of it: I expected Faith's place to be all cluttered and filled with electronic devices I wouldn't understand, but no, what I see before me looks quite… zen, in fact. There's a great TV, of course, with a Playstation set next to it, and a comfortable couch in the middle of the room, but apart from that it's just a regular basement-type of an apartment. Wait, no – there's also a small work-out space by the window, some mats, a boxing bag, weights. The walls are creamy white, furniture black or in a deep shade of brown, accessories – such as tons of pillows lying on and around the couch – crimson red. A big, black-and-white photograph of an industrial town (Boston?) street is the only thing covering the walls.

"Where are your rock bands posters?"

"Left them in my old apartment." Faith puts my bag next to the bed standing in the faraway corner behind a brown paper screen – a low, comfortably looking piece of furniture, loaded with pillows (how surprising) – and pulls some sheets out from the wardrobe next to it. "Look, I don't think it's the best time to create you some actual living space, and you really look like you needed sleep, so let's just say you'll stay here for tonight. Go take a shower, I'll make something to eat and then we'll take care of that bloody thing in your neck.

"How did you--?"

"Oh, I do notice things sometimes, B," she answers and hands me over a towel and a tee: thank God for that, I'm way too tired to face my own suitcase. I go into the bathroom, and roam between Faith's cosmetics: lots of comforting, sweet-scented things. No harsh body scrubs, no grey soap. I'm impressed.

After a long, hot shower, I decide to experiment and rub some of Faith's body milk into my skin. It's the first time I've seen this particular brand; it smells of something delicate and soft, and it has small droplets of gold in it. As I watch it glitter on my skin, and admire the overall sensation, I suddenly catch myself wondering how Faith's skin must feel if she applies it every night…

Stunned by the thought itself, I quickly put on the tee she'd given me, and exit the bathroom. I find Faith in a small kitchen just next to it, finishing a vegetable and cheese omelet. A cup of chamomile tea with a drop of milk is waiting for me. "I am _so_ not drinking this."

"C'mon, B, give it a try," Faith smiles at me, and eventually I give up and take a sip. The tea is surprisingly good, and I drink some more of it, waiting for Faith to serve me my dinner.

"I'm kinda surprised by how homey you've become," I say, after complimenting on her cooking skills. She shrugs and eats a bit of her work, though she doesn't look actually hungry.

"Ya know, B, eventually you realize you need to quit junk an' start eating real food in order to keep yourself sexy and smooth."

"Right."

We finish our meal in silence. As I watch Faith doing the dishes, I suddenly feel a massive wave of dizziness coming over, and yawned loudly. Faith shoots me a glance and comes over, drying her hands with a piece of cloth.

" 'Kay, you, 'm gonna go take a shower, and when 'm back we're gonna fix that ugly bitch in your neck," she says and pats me on the shoulder on her way to the bathroom. I wonder whether she remembered about the towel, and slip in to bed feeling just a little bit curious. Am I to see Faith naked on our very first night together? And after I'd done that, to receive a massage from her? The thought makes my skin tingle: I couldn't say whether I'm being nervous, or rather… excited by the perspective. Still, tired as I was, I thought dizzily I'd rather have a quiet, uneventful evening…

My wish is granted.

I fall asleep even before Faith comes back.

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I have absolutely nothing to say in my defense. It's been _years_ since I worked on this fic, and I'm pretty sure most of you have either forgotten about it, or grown to hate me for not updating (facepalms). The life out here has been pretty bitchy for the last couple of… well, years, and my writing has suffered profoundly.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this unforgivably late installment. Feedback is love, if you care to leave any, and Joss owns it all, duh.

0o0o0o0o0o

_Buffy's POV_

I wake up from a deep, relaxing slumber, to find sun entering the basement through small, rectangular windows; for some time I simply lay there, staring at the dust particles dancing in the air, and wondering what time it might be.

Then I hear Faith's humming, combined with a gentle sound of her hands tapping over some keyboard. Computer games in the morning. A perfect way to start a day, Faith-style.

Barefoot, I stumble out of my bed and towards the middle of the basement where Faith is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a console in her lap, large, purple headphones covering her ears. I smile, unconsciously.

"Sleep OK?" she asks me, and I realize the volume in her phones must have been pretty low all the time.

"Oh, yes," I nod and stretch, listening to all familiar cracks in my bones. Faith keeps looking at me, her game is paused, her elbow resting on the sofa as she half-turns to face me, with the strangest expression on her face. Thoughtful. Considering.

There's rustle of paper under the door, and a small note appears on our side of it. Faith's eyes never leave mine. She licks her lips, and suddenly I feel very, very hot.

"The post's here," I say, shakily, trying to make her look away, make her stop doing… _this_, whatever this is, to me. Faith shrugs one shoulder.

"I can tell you what it says. Red's late for work already, she wants me to change Chris, who's playing in her cot upstairs, and take her for a walk, 'cause, apparently, the weather still hasn't given us the cold shoulder."

I blush, ashamed—for Willow—for myself—for not being here, when she needed me.

"Do you really think it's only about that?" I ask doubtfully, but the only reaction I get from Faith is a short, irritated snort, some rapid pounding on the console resulting in switching off the TV, and another shrug as she walks over to the door to pick up the note.

"I _know_ it's about it," she insists, and hands me over the note. Indeed, it says exactly what she'd predicted.

"This doesn't feel right," I mutter to myself, while Faith pulls her hair back and busies herself around with packing of what looks like a day-bag for a toddler.

"I'll go up and feed her," she says, throwing me a fleeting glance that has nothing of the intensity her previous look had. She's already concentrating on Chris, and her alone. "You're welcome to join us at the beach, if you want. It's also a nice place for a jog, ya know. Help yourself to whatever you can find in the fridge. Later, B."

And she's gone.

I make myself a sandwich—nothing even barely reminding the omelet Faith cooked for me the night before—and munch on it in silence, my eyes still wandering around the room. Like last night, I find it much more… mature, than I would've expected from Faith. On the other hand—and I only notice it now—it's pretty much empty. Like a temporary lodging, not a place you'd want to stay in for good.

Maybe that's all it is to her. Maybe when—_if_, a nasty little voice in my head chimes in—Willow straightens up the relationship with her daughter, Faith will just ride away into the sunset?

How long is it going to take?, I wonder washing up the emptied plate. Did I miss the most important part of my friends' lives while I was in Europe?

Or perhaps I've simply lost my perspective and no longer _know_ what was important to any of them?

Spending time together and talking might be the key to getting back to my old life, I decide, walking into Xander's kitchen half an hour later. Faith, filling the dishwasher with cutlery, acknowledges my presence with a smirk.

"Ready to hit the beach, B?" she asks with a grin and turns to fetch Chris, who's obviously excited and bouncy upon hearing the 'b' word.

"Whatever you say, F," I smirk back, and something very, very small falls back into place.

0o0o0o0o0o

For a long while we simply sit there, not talking, unless you count the childspeak in which we address Chris as she gurgles and giggles, making sand cakes with Faith's assistance. The more I look at them, the toddler and the Slayer, the more I can't cope with the situation that made them bond like this in the first place.

Finally, Chris grows tired of playing and starts protesting loudly, until Faith fishes a banana out of her bag and feeds it to her. I watch a beautiful, dark-haired child munching the fruit, and she watches me back with the eyes that look exactly like her mother's.

The said mother isn't here. I have no idea what she's doing, or _why_ is it so important—but as I observe all the little things about Chris, I cannot imagine why anybody would willingly exchange the possibility of being close to her, watching her grow, for anything else in the world.

"Something eating you up, B?" Faith asks with a frown, wiping her fingers off on a napkin. "C'mon, ya know ya can tell me…"

A part of me knows that she's just teasing, but another, more prominent one, urges me to give in. And I do.

"I can't believe it, any of it," I say and shake my head. "Will's never been so… distant, so…"

Faith shrugs and tosses some stray hair off her face, making sure it doesn't tickle the sleeping child. "You know, B, I haven't been there when the other chick… Tara, right?, kicked it 'n all, but from what I've heard about Red becoming the Ultimate Evil 'n stuff, I'd say she's pretty emotional when it comes to her love life. She was bound to react for the bitch's departure, this way or the other."

I sigh and nod, looking away from her—from the child on her lap—into the cobalt waves of the sea. "We've changed, haven't we?' I ask, despite my strong resolution not to get philosophical with anyone, even (or especially) Faith.

"We sure did," she answers calmly and solemnly, not in the way I've imagined she would—again, the world's no longer a safe place with everyone's personalities evolving so fast.

"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?" I ask again, hoping to get her to joke, say something funny, or harsh, or… I don't know. Something that'd sound like the _old_ Faith, the one I know. She laughs, and the sound of it is rich and heavy in the moist, autumn air.

"Nope. I was pretty sure the Big House'll be my last lodging. As for you—" she pauses and gives me a once-over with half-lidded eyes, "—you're too tough to break, B, so I'd figured you'd be retired by now, spending your adult life in some cozy apartment with a bunch of brats and a not-necessarily-dead guy with looks to die for…"

I flinch at the picture she's painted, and make a face at her. "No guys, please. At least not for now."

"What's the matter, B?" she teases me with a grin. "Decided it'd be fun to bat for the other team for a while?"

I don't want to blush right now. I tell myself I shouldn't. I do, anyway.

"What about you, Faith?" I bit back, hoping to avoid her question. "You've had guys, many guys—sorry, that's the truth as I see it—but did you ever… you know…"

"Fall for a chick?" she finishes, apparently feeling quite smug over my visible squirming. "Well, B, ya know how things are: sometimes it's not about what a person has between their legs. Sometimes it's all about what's _here_," she leans over and touches my temple with the very tips of her fingers. They're soft and cool, still smelling slightly of bananas, and the swift contact they have with my skin makes me shiver in something I can only call 'anticipation'.

"Cold again?" she asks, but I can see from the flicker in her eye she's not serious. At least not about the cold.

"N-no," I say, and once I caught her eye, I can't seem to break our contact. There's something I want to—need to—ask her. "What's it like?"

She frowns at me, before smiling the oh-so-teasing, knowing smile. "With another girl?"

I nod, silently, not quite trusting my voice right now.

Faith sighs and leans back on outstretched arms, her fingers combing through silvery white sand. Slowly, she sits up straight again, and picks Chris out of her lap, placing her in the chair. The baby never stirs once.

"It's… different," she says slowly, not meeting my eye. "There's much more tension than with a guy, at least in the beginning, when you still don't know what's it going to be. And then—then there's this one moment when _something_ changes between the two of you. A shift in the weight-balance. Usually that's when you kiss for the first time."

I cannot help but stare at her. Her full, moist lips. Her long eyelashes. The way she smirks at me when she catches me staring. The low, raspy timbre of her voice echoes throughout my body. Is _that_ it? The 'something' that changes between us, right here, right now?

I drop to my knees and spread my hands flat on the sand in front of me, leaning closer to her, into the warmth of her body—without touching it, not yet.

"And the kissing… is that different, too?" I ask boldly, quite sure my cheeks must be turning the most unbelievable shade of crimson even as I speak. Faith locks her eyes with mine, and although her expression is dead serious, I can detect the faintest spark of humor in them.

"The kissing is abso-fucking-lutely great, B, as are all other things," she tells me softly, without any hesitation. "Point is, ya need to be hundred-percent sure it's what ya want, if ya don't want the whole thing to go straight to hell before it begins for good."

She jumps to her feet in one swift motion, somehow managing not to wake Chris up in the process. I look up at her face, and am suddenly aware that this is no time for jokes and ironic remarks. This is when we decide. When _I_ decide.

"'m gonna take the lil' one home," Faith says, and blinks slowly before adding, "and you better think this whole business through, B. I've been to many places, and now I finally feel like I know what I want. Do you?"

With that, she gives me one last long, thoughtful look, and heads back to the house, balancing the child and the day-bag in her arms.

I stand up, brush some sand from my jog-pants, turn back on Faith, and start running along the waterline.

Something tells me I need to get some space, to step away from her for now—if I really _do_ intent to come closer in the end.

**TBC…**


End file.
